


Coming Home To Music: A Saga (Ft. K-pop)

by hotdogsandpopcorn



Series: Lejindary Shadows [1]
Category: K-pop, Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: (I do not regret everything... I think), BTS's Love Is Not Over, Domestic Malec, Gen, I REGRET NOTHING, I want the two things I love in one setting alright?, M/M, Magnus absolutely LOVES k-pop, Malec in Jimin’s Filter suits, Max Lightwood is alive, Max and Rafael Lightwood-Bane are die-hard A.R.M.Y.s, Yes please!!!, and Chicken Noodle Soup, and a k-popper, and keep calm, and last but not least, at least he’s trying, could i resist the temptation to dress malec in those holy attire?, do i have to change the rating?, evidently not, just damn, like come on!, mentions of EXO’s Growl, mildly smuttish scenes and implied smut, nobody can convince me otherwise, poor baby, shadow world and k-pop?, so heads up, that is so a song for Magnus, the fabulousness, then mentions of Blueberry eyes, then we have Hwasa’s Maria, this was not in a parent's job description Alec thinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28122954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotdogsandpopcorn/pseuds/hotdogsandpopcorn
Summary: “It could’ve been worse,” many tell him cheerfully, providing Alec—the fucking Inquisitor of the Nephilim—a bright smile and a pat on the back. “At least, this is harmless. A small teenage infatuation with a small Mundane culture. What could happen?”And that's when Alec gets the maniacal urge to laugh, loudly and obnoxiously, while drowning in his tears, as the image of his entire family (includinghis mother) wolf-whistling and pretending to swoon at the sight of a Korean man’s seemingly very normal forehead flashes through his mind.Bitch, you thought.
Relationships: Magnus Bane & Alec Lightwood & Max Lightwood-Bane & Rafael Lightwood-Bane, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: Lejindary Shadows [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2060298
Comments: 18
Kudos: 17





	Coming Home To Music: A Saga (Ft. K-pop)

**Author's Note:**

> Malec as parents with die-hard k-popping children. How is this not a concept?  
> *cries with feels*  
> Also... Fair warning, none of the songs mentioned follow a specific timeline or the time in which they were released. PAY NO MIND, alright, lil cherubs? Just sit back and enjoy the divine experience that is Malec and K-pop.  
> Hope I don't disappoint.  
> A list of all the songs involved will be most likely mentioned in the notes below.

The first time Alec was welcomed into the loft with music was when he and Magnus were a few months into their dating. Alec stepped inside to a rock song that he was sure was older than him thumping along the walls as Magnus sat curled up on the couch with the Chairman, sipping a cup of hot chocolate and a book on his lap. A smile stretched across Alec’s face instantly, and that was one of the first times the thought that Alec was coming _home_ struck him sharply. Needless to say, he immediately shucked his boots and left his bow and arrows by the door, walking quickly and plopping down beside Magnus with a notable lack of grace. And as the two of them proceeded to a make-out session of slow, lazy kissing and looking forward to a whole night of it, the song smoothed out and gently transitioned to a saxophone-based song that Alec is sure he's heard Simon ramble about before. It was also one of the first times that Alec considered bringing the element of music to the bedroom. It was just a thought. A tiny innocent idea that wasn't supposed to be indulged in.

“Like it?” Magnus questions now, innocently, not quite managing to hide the shit-eating grin on his face. He is draped over Alec, trailing sweet kisses down the Shadowhunter’s chest, while a hand strokes him slowly, expertly. Alec doesn’t quite register the fact that words have been uttered until Magnus nuzzles his face into his neck, nipping at the Rune there to grab his attention. Alec blinks his eyes open owlishly, raises his head an inch to kiss off the pout on his husband’s awaiting lips and then leans back again. Magnus continues to watch him, waiting.

Alec frowns a second, replaying what had been said in his lust-driven brain, and then his eyes go wide with the realisation.

“Oh,” he manages, the light crimson on his cheeks betraying him as always. “Music.”

A guttural voice in the background, sounding particularly turned on, breathes, “ _Sexy~_ ”

By the fucking Angel.

“Yes, love, _music_.” Magnus’s grin only grows wider. He chuckles delightedly and strokes again, fingers dancing lightly over the sensitive skin and Alec keens, back arching. “Way overdue, if you ask me.”

Alec hums in enthusiastic approval, his heartbeat speeding up a notch as he settles into the sultry beats echoing through their bedroom. It isn’t a pop song, as he expected.

“Which one is this?” he asks, curiously. He has come across an incredible variety of music in the time he’s been with the warlock above him—who is also currently intent upon dragging this out for as long as possible (Alec isn’t complaining.)

“Oh, you haven’t heard this before,” Magnus reassures him, coming up for a kiss before retracing his way back to a nipple. “Maxwell introduced me to them. K-pop, he said.”

Alec is just about to grumble about how his husband shouldn’t be bringing his brother in the middle of _this_ , but then he gets sidetracked.

“K-pop?”

Magnus only grins.

And Alec thinks briefly, while the hand on him twists just the way he likes and he groans.

_Oh, shit._

* * *

It only escalates from then on.

And Alec thinks, frequently, that he should have known that this ‘K-pop’ thing wasn't going to be a quick phase. No, it _spreads_. It spreads faster than the glitter in the loft. The glitter that made its way into Alec’s hair at the beginning of his and Magnus’s relationship still makes an appearance whenever it pleases, raining down from his head while he pores over reports or while he’s out on missions. _K-pop_ , however, is just getting started.

Between one week and the next, Alec can already spot so many changes. His little manga-reading brother watches on with absolute pride in his eyes, as the entire Lightwood family (and their spouses) begin to revolve around the “wonderful, surreal concept” that he has introduced them to.

There are even more inside jokes than before, between Clary and Simon. And whenever Alec catches sight of the two of them, they're almost always giggling hysterically, whispering like little children who are crushing together on a senior in their school. Alec is not sure how he knows that.

Then there’s his _parabatai_ , who has formed an unusual habit of meeting up with Maryse every weekend to “binge-watch K-dramas until their eyes pop out.” He’s already made his way through five of them, though Alec isn't sure how it is possible in matters of time and space. But he's come to peace with the fact that nothing ever shall obey the supposed laws of nature anymore. Not when Jace, the badass Shadowhunter who is so revered by all Nephilim around the world, is talking a mile a minute and almost resembling Simon with the way he enthusiastically spills information about all the dramas that he's watched. There is a list of them that Alec has been instructed to see with his husband; Alec may or may not have burnt it.

Isabelle, on the other hand, has become increasingly obsessed with the skin-care products that are part of the culture and has taken up a part-time job of trying to get her brothers and husband to test them out for her before she uses them herself. “You have way less to lose,” she’d protest when asked why. “My skin is more precious than yours.” Magnus would always agree.

And then, there are also drastic changes in his own home, which are also the ones that are almost impossible to cope with.

“RAFAEL AND MAXWELL LIGHTWOOD-BANE,” he has to yell, as soon as he crosses the threshold of the loft. “TURN THE SPEAKERS DOWN _RIGHT NOW_.”

“Sorry, Dad,” comes the response, and Alec knows most certainly that his children are anything but sorry. “It’s the comeback, so we can’t.” They say it with conviction as if it makes all the sense in the world. Alec desperately wants to make it known that it does _not_ make all the sense in the world. He thinks back to the wonderful days when his teenage kids used to be young—only weeks ago, when they did not know of this K-pop.

Posters and albums and ‘merch’ begin to squeeze their way into the loft and therefore, his life, decorating his sons’ bedrooms with nameless faces and colourful words that the two of them look to with _awe_. And somehow there is a ceiling-to-floor poster pasted above the bed in his and Magnus’s room too. If Alec was hopeful that the warlock might protest to it and take off the spell that his younger son has used to make the picture stick to the wall, then he ought to bang his head on a desk. Of course, Magnus thinks that the poster gives character to the room. ( _Alright, then,_ Alec decides viciously, _Magnus can say goodbye to having sex in our bedroom_.)

He sighs.

_Oh, shit, indeed._

* * *

“Honey, I’m home!” Alec calls out experimentally. The loft is silent—eerie, even. And Alec feels a slow dread starting to creep in on him. He’s gotten somewhat used to the pulsing speakers by now, to the throbbing of the walls and floor, and the usually loud singing that his sons accompany the songs with. It unsettles him, to feel his home so quiet.

“Here, love!” A voice calls back in response, and Alec immediately relaxes. He follows his husband’s voice to the balcony.

“Hey, where are the kids—oh.”

Evenings in the Lightwood-Bane household usually find the parents lounging together on the couch, wine glasses in hand, dressed in well-worn sweaters and hoodies. And their children are usually found to make their way between them to get entangled in their cocoon of blankets and declare smugly that they are stealing their parents’ body warmth. Alec is a little suspicious that their uncles have trained them to cockblock him and Magnus whenever possible, pleased though he is that their two teenagers love cuddling as much as they do.

This evening, however, Max and Rafe are nowhere in sight, and his husband is not dressed in the grey sweater that he claims to hate with all his soul, as is tradition.

Alec gulps.

Magnus blooms before him like a holy apparition, leaning against the railing of the balcony, elbows positioned behind him and his long, lean legs crossed elegantly at the ankles.

“Wow.”

Magnus beams, pleased.

Deep burgundy wraps around him, torso to feet, shining and shimmering in the pale pink light that the setting sun manages to exude. There are high waisted pants and a dress shirt tucked into it, buttons glinting a bit suggestively at how well they can be popped off. A rakish coat stretches from one broad shoulder to the other, its ripples of fabric showing off his arms nicely, and Alec can feel his mouth beginning to water (it's natural, okay?). The hair is styled up in an impeccable coif, red strands falling over the warlock’s forehead quite adorably; glitter ghosts over his cheekbones and rings gleam on his fingers. If Alec has to describe him in few words, he would say that his husband looks like a tall glass of rich, red wine—and a wine which tastes as good as it looks, utterly smooth and entirely delicious.

 _Only Magnus_ , Alec thinks importantly, _can pull off hot and cute at the same time._

But then he remembers what Rafe told him solemnly the other day, about how his idols were “innocent beans one second and sexy beasts the next”. The thought promptly snaps him out of the swirling, whirling tornado named ‘Magnus Bane's sexiness’ that he seldom doesn't fall prey to, and he realises (albeit, lately) that Magnus is waiting for something.

“Wow,” Alec repeats, willing his feet to finally move so that he can walk up to his handsome husband and give him the kiss he deserves. Magnus accepts graciously.

“The kids and the Chairman are with Catarina for tonight,” Magnus informs him brightly, the familiar spark of mischief beginning to take form in his cat eyes. “It’s just us.”

“Ah.” Alec catches on. It seems that his voice has been rendered useless today and has become limited only to single-syllable answers. But Alec Lightwood-Bane is nothing if not determined, so he attempts to form a proper sentence again. “You look like a matador—a sexy, sexy matador.”

The spark becomes a raging flame, and Magnus grins his approval. Alec gives himself a mental pat on the back.

“I aim to please,” Magnus says, sweeping himself into a bow. And if Alec giggled at that, accepting the bow and returning it with one of his own which was just as flamboyant, then it's for no one to know.

“Seriously, though,” he begins, stepping up close to tug at the lapels over his husband’s front, “what’s the occasion?” Satisfied with the smooth fabric beneath his palms, he uses them to pull their owner close, lips quickly seeking Magnus’s jawline and his oh so wonderful neck.

Magnus lets out a pleased laugh, one of his hands coming up to card through Alec’s hair as he is pressed against the railing. “We’re going to dance,” he announces.

Alec freezes. He looks up, his eyes meeting Magnus’s. “Oh.” Damn it, he was just beginning to get his speech back.

“May I?” Magnus asks, gesturing to Alec’s admittedly drab clothes with a dancing hand.

Alec mutely nods, stepping back to provide Magnus with the space to work his magic (literally). And it has to be a testament to the faith and trust between them that Alec's heart isn't bouncing around in his ribcage wildly with the fear of what's to come. Magnus won't do anything potentially hazardous, would he? Like, maybe, the time he made Alec wear his hair in a mohawk, insisting strongly that it looked _dashing_.

Blue sparks fly and leave behind them in their wake, something that has Alec’s mouth opening and closing like a fish's.

“I have to say,” Magnus begins, eyes roving from top to bottom and drinking Alec in with relish. “I was quite apprehensive of the idea of couple-outfits, but I do like this.”

Replacing Alec's practical and very comfortable sweater is a suit much like Magnus’s—it has the same pants and shirt, coupled with the same kind of coat that sits at his waist. The sleeves fit his arms like a dream. And the entire outfit is _purple._ A dark, shimmering purple that suits Magnus’s burgundy well. And Alec can kind of see the appeal that Magnus has to this situation. He's almost about to voice it when a realisation settles into him, and he says, instead, “You planned this!”

Magnus gives him a lopsided grin that makes Alec want to rip the well-tailored clothes right off of the smug warlock and [censored].

“Obviously, darling. Things like these require a lot of planning.”

“We are not going clubbing,” Alec tells him, swiftly. “I don't care how much these suits cost, but we are not going clubbing.”

Magnus raises an eyebrow. “As pained as I am, Alexander, that you don't care about this frankly _magnificent_ attire, I assure you, we aren't going clubbing.”

“Oh.” _GODDAMMIT_. “But you said dancing, so—”

Mimicking his move with a smirk, Magnus pulls Alec to him with his lapels. His hands slide downwards, finding the belt loops of the pants and using them to bring Alec’s hips flush with his.

Alec sighs and winds his arms around the other’s waist with content. “Ah,” he mumbles against the soft shoulder, “ _this_ dancing.”

Magnus hums in response, and Alec notes with satisfaction, the lack of witty comebacks. He's extremely sated and comfortable at this moment that he almost fails to notice the song that flows into existence in the air around them.

But, two seconds later, he most definitely notices and he pulls back a little to give Magnus his squinty-narrowed-eyes look.

“K-pop?” he demands.

“ _Obviously,_ darling _._ ” Magnus is full-on smirking now and he immediately places a hand at the small of Alec’s back to press him back into Magnus. Alec doesn't protest.

He isn't sure how much time has passed as the two of them move together, bodies learning and relearning all new things about themselves as the music caresses them in the cool night air (oh, when did it become dark?). Magnus’s eyes hold something—something heavy and light, and just so _whole_ —while he looks at him, and Alec feels almost overwhelmed with what he sees there. He holds Magnus closer.

They dance only for their eyes, playful and uncoordinated, and with love and laughter. It's _perfect._

And the body rolls that the man stepped briefly away from Alec to deliver were also totally worth the trouble of not having his warmth pressed up against Alec for a minute. Magnus’s body rolls are just sinful—Alec is certain that he won't mind going to Hell if he can enjoy the way his husband’s hips sway and move with power, with the dirty, debauched mind that he owns. Sometimes, he wonders if he was ever innocent.

“She sounds sad,” Alec says out of the blue, breaking the sacred silence between them. But he can't help it. The woman does sound sad. And maybe a little crazed, but in a good way. He knows that he’ll never admit it, but he's found the song pleasant so far—the perfect amount of melodious and fast. But as they near the end of it, the singer sounds mournful.

“ _Oh, Maria_.”

Maybe, Alec ought to keep his Speak in Tongues Rune permanently activated. But he does get a sense of what the woman sings about—“ _You’re beautiful as you are_.”

“Oh, my love,” Magnus says almost softly, an incomprehensible smile pulling the corners of his lips upwards.

He's beautiful. As he always is. As he will be, forever.

The song picks up pace once more, the sadness switching to a savage ‘fuck you’ kind of tone; Alec is very much in favour of it.

And when they kiss—kiss as natural as they breathe—Alec feels the music seep down to his very bones; all the emotion-heavy words and the smooth, _badass_ bass. It suits Magnus in a way Alec doesn't know how to describe. He still has no idea who Maria is, but he decides that he likes her.

The startling realisation that Alec has come to like a _K-pop_ song only lasts a brief second as the two of them stumble inside when the song is finished (tonight is not the night for their exhibitionist sides to take over.) And as they close the doors to the balcony and fall to the couch with their usual grace, Alec thinks.

_Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit._

* * *

Ever since what Alec has fondly come to call ‘The Incident That Shall Not Be Named, but here's a hint, traitor: it's the one time when you actually liked wearing a suit’—which, in reality, was more or less a test of checking whether Alec can be swayed to liking K-pop—, Magnus has kept up relentlessly. Alec feels betrayed.

He walks in on his husband in various states of flexible movement and various sorts of positions, while various K-pop songs play through the speakers. It's as if Magnus is trying to tease him with all the things that could be made possible if only Alec would accept the fact that he doesn't hate the darned thing; Magnus _knows_ that him dancing equals to Alec’s blood pumping to certain regions, and he's using it to his full advantage. Which is just dirty. In all sorts of ways.

It baffles him too. How could anyone know that many forms of dance? Even if Magnus is centuries old, one can only learn so much...

One day Alec walks in on the High Warlock gyrating his hips around a pole, limbs bending and folding neatly into each other as he slips and slides like it is his life’s purpose, silver-dusted eyes squeezed shut and a smirk tilting the edge of his mouth ( _to EXO_ , the voice of his little brother, Max, supplies unhelpfully in his brain.)

Then the warlock is found shaking his cute ass off to buoyant, animated and _glamorous_ moves, while the Chairman clings on to his head for dear life ( _TWICE,_ Alec can hear the way his brother's voice just softens with pride and fondness as it always does when mentioning them; ah, yes, TWICE is his favourite group.)

And the other day, Alec almost gets a heart attack when he barely dodges a foot to his face and then quickly realises with a gaping mouth and raging erection that, apparently, Magnus—his beloved husband—knows hip-hop too ( _Stray Kids_ , Max sighs with disappointment at his ever-horny-for-his-husband of a brother.)

One of the more memorable times, he walks in on his husband dancing with a fucking jaguar and realises that _thank the Angel, it isn't an actual jaguar, it's just an illusion,_ but it makes Magnus look a goddamn, regally glorious king. The Shadowhunter is prepared to swear before the soul sword that there has never existed a more incredibly meaningful spectacle ( _that's Mamamoo for you_ , the inside voice cackles gleefully.)

Then there is the time he caught the warlock making _finger guns_ look so fucking _cool_ and moving so fucking smoothly and dangerously, that Alec loses his voice for at least a week ( _Blackpink in your area, bitches —_ Alec is beginning to fear this Max-apparition.)

There are so many times that he's interrupted a blissfully dancing Magnus by now, that Alec is beginning to lose count (not that he is, you know... counting.)

There was the exuberantly colourful, you-can’t-help-moving-your-body-to-this-beat one that he saw last week, trying to remain as still as a statue while he watched, and failing ( _Seventeen_ , Max sings.)

And the one which bordered on godly, which Alec distinctly remembers also as the one he almost kind of just dropped to his knees for as soon as he caught sight of his husband ( _(G)I-dle_ , the voice says with roaring approval.)

Oh, and then the pretty one a few days ago, fulfilment and content just thrumming through him, while Magnus moved fluidly, as though he was creating a language with the way he danced. The image makes Alec smile every time he replays it ( _Got7_ , whispers mind-Max excitedly.)

All these moments (and many more) are properly filtered, well-catalogued and placed into the designated files of Alec’s mind so that his brain can flick through them whenever necessary and whenever Alec is hopeless about life and humanity in general—oh, why does writing reports have to be so hard?

Also, why in Raziel’s name is there a Spotify playlist named, ‘ _songs to listen to when missing home...and okay because they sound good too_ 😱’ in his phone filled with every single one of those highly and secretly revered songs?

_Oh, holy fucking shit._

* * *

It's been about a year now since K-pop has made its way into Alec’s life. He still hasn't admitted to _anything_.

“Alec,” someone groans, as soon as they enter his office. “It’s late. Get the fuck home.”

Alec looks up, narrowing his eyes at Isabelle, as he continues to scrawl the reports down. “You do know that you're my _younger_ sister, right?”

She scoffs, dropping into the seat in front of him and blowing away a long strand of hair that falls on her face. “Younger or not, I take better care of myself. Unlike you, who doesn't register the fact that it's well past the time his husband and children expect him at home.”

_Fuck._

Alec gazes down at his watch, eyes widening as they take in the time. Seriously, what is the point of wearing a watch if he isn't going to look at it?

“Fuck,” he voices the one word that floats through his mind. He hasn't called to say that he was going to be late. And Magnus has been busy with clients and spells and potions all week. He and Alec haven't had any proper balcony rendezvous or couch cuddling in a long time.

Alec misses him. He misses their kids. He misses his home. It sometimes makes no sense, how he just feels the difference in the air, the slight feeling of being unbalanced, when his family isn't with him. His siblings and parent are important people in his heart, of course, but another sense of the protectiveness that he so naturally carries is only saved for _them,_ purely and wholly for them—Magnus, Max and Rafael.

He lets out a breath, putting a hand over his forehead to grasp at his hair desperately. Izzy looks sympathetic.

“Don’t worry,” she says, smiling small and leaning forward to put a hand over his other one. “I called Magnus an hour ago. Told him that you'd forgotten to charge your stupid phone and that you're probably too caught up in work to notice.”

Alec looks guiltily at his poor, dead phone which stares bleakly at the ceiling with no amount of power in it, whatsoever. He truly doesn't know how he, the organised Nephilim he is, just let the battery go that low. Maybe, he ought to uninstall a few of the apps. _Spotify has to stay_ , he thinks immediately. And then, _by the angel, what the fuck is happening to me?_

“Thanks,” he says, swallowing thickly. “I owe you one.”

“Nah. Consider it me settling my debt for that time when Simon almost caught me reading Twilight and you lied for me.”

Alec grins, closing up the folders that lay on the desk and grabbing the jacket that is thrown over the chair. He puts it on, remembering to pocket his phone, and walks around the table. Izzy stands. He reaches out, pulling her close for a brief hug. Kissing the top of her head, he says quietly, “I’m so lucky to have you as my sister, you know that?”

Izzy normally shrugs it off when he says things like that—scrunches her nose in quiet distaste or teases him to hell and back about it. Alec does it anyway.

Now, however, she flashes a blinding smile, returning the hug and whispering back, “Yeah, I know. And I'm lucky to have you too.”

“What about me?!” An indignant voice demands, right behind the door. _He must be using his Hearing Rune,_ Alec muses. _What a stupid move._

“Stop eavesdropping, Herondale-Lightwood!” Izzy yells, pulling away and stomping to the door with purpose, heels clicking against the wood.

Alec hears an “Oh, shit,” and the hurried footsteps of his _parabatai_ running away before their sister manages to make an angelic kebab out of him.

He laughs, following after the both of them.

But he still misses home.

So, he goes.

When Alec steps into the loft, the wards letting him in as it always does, he lets go. His shoulders sag and the tension of the day just bleeds out of him. Arranging his boots and weapons by the stand at the door, the Shadowhunter immediately seeks out his children—as he always does.

His breath hitches.

The beds are empty; they don't even look slept in. The sheets—one of a dragon’s eye and one of the night sky—are crisp and made to absolute perfection. Alec regrets ever asking Max and Rafael to make their bed after they get up.

_No. No. No._

He staggers out of the room, body running on pure instinct, his limbs coordinating with each other for the sole purpose of getting him to three specific souls that his own yearns for. Even the Chairman doesn't seem to be around.

_Think, Lightwood... Eh, Lightwood-Bane._

Alec lets out a breathy, delirious laugh at his stupid self, and it clears his mind up enough to calm down. One breath. And another.

Then Alec can clearly hear sounds from behind his and Magnus’s bedroom—giggles, a soft snort and _singing_. (How did Alec not hear that before? He is pretty sure that the Nephilim are overselling their ‘enhanced senses.’ Dammit, how is Magnus always right?)

With a relieved sigh that reverberates through his very being, Alec shoulders the heavy door open and is met with one of the softest sights he's ever come upon in his mortal life.

 _They're safe_ , he registers in the back of his mind.

Magnus sits at one end of their bed, cross-legged and pyjama-clad, with a sleeping tabby cat curled up at his feet. His hair is down, soft raven bangs falling across his forehead, and his hand caresses their son’s blue locks while he sings. Rafael and Max are wrapped around him, bodies huddled together like baby otters, and Alec is blessed with the sight of his sons happily hugging their father. Whoever said that teenagers think themselves too cool to cuddle their parents is indeed an idiot.

Rafael’s skin is as warm as honey in the low, yellow glow of the night lights and one of his arms curls over his brother, who is between the two of them, and rests on top of Magnus’s thighs. Alec pads over to the bed, coming up to lay down beside Rafael so that he can create one huge family burrito. The younger warlock snaps his fingers to change him into his own pyjamas—the one with a cup of ramen on its front—, and Alec presents a thumbs-up. Magnus smiles at him softly, golden cat-eyes crinkling at the corners.

“ _Kiss you each morning  
With strawberry skies.”_

“Singing a love song without me?” Alec murmurs, teasingly. “I'm offended.”

“Karaoke Night,” Rafael reminds, twisting his torso toward him. Alec notes that his son has foregone wearing a t-shirt for bed again. After nuzzling into Alec’s neck for a brief moment with his messy curls, Rafe turns back. “You missed lotta songs.”

“Papa and I sang Baekhyun's Candy,” Max adds, enthusiastic. Judging by the pleased smirk that graces his husband’s face, Alec has definitely missed a treat. “We all did Good Boy after that.”

“And then we sang Bad Boy.” Rafe lets out a mad cackle, delighted at his own joke.

“Lemme guess—then you all sang _Really_ Bad Boy?”

Three sets of eyes blink disbelievingly at him.

Alec grins sheepishly.

He wishes though, sometimes, that he could just retire and, hopefully, renounce Shadowhunting forever. But he knows that isn't plausible. Jace would kill him. And he'd miss it too.

But how many more moments is he going to miss with his children if his work keeps him this busy all the time?

Magnus slides down the bed, bringing up his arm to circle them all as well, and successfully finishes the burrito that Alec was intent on building. The warlock squeezes his bicep gently, _reassuringly_ , and then stares right into Max’s eyes, bumping his forehead against the horns. “ _’Cause I get so lost in~ Your blueberry eyes._ ” Max giggles helplessly.

Heart at peace, he leans up toward Magnus for his hello kiss. Their lips press together, at home once more, and Alec leans back only when he's satisfied. Magnus winks.

Then he realises with a jolt, _Rafe is rapping. In Korean._

The teenage Shadowhunter does it with a sort of practised ease, voice steady and lips moving with confidence. And Alec is well beyond stunned. He doesn't even know that his son knew Korean!

“We learnt it a couple of months ago,” Max informs him, apparently aware of his Dad’s dilemma. “No Runes, no spells. Papa is learning too!”

Alec’s jaw falls open as he throws a questioning look at said Korean-learning man.

Magnus shrugs modestly. “Well, I'm only relearning.”

“When?” Alec manages to croak out. With Rafe’s rapping coming to a close, Max continues from him, smoothly taking over the singing part with no hitches.

“Whenever we're free,” Magnus says. “Indonesian for the kids the first half of the session. And Korean for me, the second half. It's rather marvellous, actually, darling, _so_ many new slangs have come to existence since the last time I've spoken either of the languages. It makes learning them all the more exciting.”

Alec brushes a finger over Magnus’s cheekbone, grinning at the twinkling eyes with fondness swelling in his chest.

_Angels above, my husband is such a dork._

And then, the fondness swirls into something deep and calming that settles into his chest with the memories that overtake him. He knows that Rafael and Max learn Indonesian whenever they can, of course. The kids suggested wanting to learn it all on their own.

Alec remembers that day—the first time both their kids saw one of their parents cry in front of them. Magnus didn't want to cry then, but he couldn't help it. Alec remembers him, confessing in the quiet of the night that day, how he had always felt bitter when thinking of his mother tongue, how the weight of its words had served as a reminder of the ‘ugly’ beginnings of his life. Magnus had never been able to bear it, to face that part of himself again. But now he would have new memories—of sweet laughter and loving souls—to keep that spirit of his self alive. Magnus said that he had not wanted to have to forget the language altogether, no matter how remorseful it had made him, and he had hoped so desperately for another chance to let himself speak it.

Their nothing-short-of-miraculous children have given him that chance now.

Opposite him, Magnus seems to be travelling through the same memory as well. He mouths, chest rising and falling serenely, “Aku cinta kamu.” He looks utterly heavenly.

And Alec _feels_ heavenly. “And I love you,” he mouths back, feeling just as peaceful.

“ _Your blueberry eyes~_ ”

Rafe juts his hands out of the covers to mimic playing on a piano for the ending notes of the song. His fingers move sophisticatedly in the air and Magnus quickly provides the instrumental with a twirl of his fingers to accompany his son's grand performance. When they're both finished, Alec claps enthusiastically like the good parent and husband he is, and Rafe bows his head at him in acknowledgement.

Chairman Meow wakes, sauntering up the bed and claiming his owner’s head as his bed for the night, as Magnus grunts in response to the loving gesture. Rafael disappears beneath the covers, and Alec can feel his hand grab his own beneath the yellow silk. Smiling softly, he bends his head to drop a soft kiss on the boy's head. Max lets out a small whine and Alec quickly kisses his head too, in appeasement.

“Good night then, everyone!” the young warlock announces, promptly diving inside after his brother and curling his body into a fetus position.

“Good night,” everybody echoes.

Magnus gets up halfway, the Chairman thankfully too deep in his slumber to yowl his complains at being jostled, and adds to Alec's kisses on their children’s heads with his own. Max tugs the man closer, mumbling about body warmth and how _Papa is too far away_ , and Magnus uses the lesser distance between him and his husband to deliver a longer, deeper kiss to him. Alec sighs blissfully and Max, catching on, pulls Magnus back to him to cut their pre-make-out session off at its early stages. Magnus blows a dignified raspberry.

Fingers snap in the air to turn off the lights and Alec swats his husband’s arm lightly in a half-hearted attempt at a rebuke for using his magic too often.

“Ouch, Dad, that was _my_ hand.”

“Sorry, baby.” He hits again, and this time his aim is better. Magnus huffs his indignance.

Alec sniggers.

“Also, Dad,” Rafe’s muffled voice sounds from under the sheets smugly, “nice Spotify playlist you've got. I have some recs for you to add to it.”

“Me too!” Max pipes in.

_Oh, Raziel’s divine shit._

* * *

Sometimes, home is not a place exactly. The loft is definitely the best definition of home in the literal sense to Alec, yes, but when not considering the strict dictionary meaning of it, Magnus is home. Family is home. The love Alec has for them, the memories he holds of them, the want to make even more memories and to live with them, to hope to share all that he is and has _with them_ —they're all valid homes to him. The way he feels. At peace and calm, and just belonging.

There's also Idris—the home of all Shadowhunters. It's one of his homes, Alec supposes, but his angel blood aside, he knows that the country wouldn't mean as much as a home as everything else does.

And in the grand scheme of things, in the cycle of life, and of everything going on and on that one day when you look back, you can't believe what you have come through and where you have come to stand now. Alec is having one of those looking back moments now.

Somehow—he doesn't know how—, but _somehow_ , music has become a home to him: a sort of comfort, an alcove of warmth for him to burrow himself into when overwhelmed or confused or just done with pesky things like having to put up with pesky people. It brings him memories, or better yet, how he felt when said memories were occurring in real life, and reminds Alec—all the who, what, why and how’s. And looking back on it, Alec is perplexed at how he ended up here. He has no clue.

He doesn't think his teenage self would be entirely pleased with his music tastes at the moment. (He doesn't think his teenage self would be pleased with him for even having a music taste.) Alec’s Spotify has become filled with K-pop—just overflowing with it. It isn't his fault, of course. His children are just too persuasive and know exactly how to convince him, just like their Papa.

But Alec wonders, all the same.

There are changes, of course, in him and in the way he perceives all there is around him. Change is natural when you accept new things into life; he isn't afraid of these. So he isn't afraid or surprised when he and the rest of the ‘adults gang’ (as the younger generation has decided to call them all) go out to celebrate the youngest Lightwood’s twenty-first birthday with a night of alcohol and partying, and he immediately offers to use his phone for the music. He presses on NCT’s Make A Wish with a satisfied nod at himself (because it's Max’s birthday, get it? _Oh, shit_ , Alec is so screwed...) and looks up.

That doesn't mean none of the others isn't surprised, it seems. Alec is a bit confused; he thought they had figured out long ago that his resolve to not succumb to the K-pop ‘fad’ had broken. It isn't that he hates the thing in question specifically. It's just that Alec has chosen to remain as a sort of designated driver while the rest of his loved ones get drunk off of K-pop.

And then there are cheers and congratulatory pats on his back and “I knew you would come through, man!”s and the “Oh, Alec, I'm so proud of you!”s. Max claims that this is the best gift he could have ever asked for and the end of the night finds all their drunken asses (including, Alec’s, unfortunately) watching Descendants of the Sun in a theatre they have somehow rented for the night. Alec thinks that he saw his husband, very calm-and-collectedly, flashing a suspicious-looking card to someone at the entrance.

_Meh, must be nothing._

After a couple of episodes, Alec jumps up on his seat. “Korean men are pretty!” He announces importantly.

Magnus blinks.

“And Korean women too, you know, for the, um—for the people who swing that way, ’cause I don't. Well, they're pretty in general. Everyone is pretty. But of course, Magnus is beautiful _and_ pretty, and like, beats them all. Still—” Alec gives an impressive pause. Simon holds on to his heart. “KOREAN MEN ARE PRETTY!”

“Yeah, man, tell ’em!” Jace aggressively nods, holding up his coke with triumph and pride, as Max wipes a tear from his eye. Alec sniffs too, cradling his hotdog close to his chest.

“Alexander,” Magnus calls out, a small amused quirk at the edge of his mouth. Alec loves that mouth. He says, quietly, “How many drinks have you had tonight?”

Alec gasps at the appalling question, but he chooses to ignore it because Magnus is beautiful and Magnus knows what he's talking about, so it's okay. But he doesn't answer.

Instead, he turns back to face the others, and says, “My kids! They love BTS, you know?”

Answering shouts echo around him.

“They’re all very pretty too!”

Clary slumps forward on her seat at the utter sincerity in his voice. Alec bends and gives her a reassuring pat on the head because he can relate.

“And they’re so adorable!” A hand tugs at his shirt then, and Alec looks down at his _amazing_ husband. Magnus raises to reach his height and murmurs in his ear, “You sure you won't regret all these drunken confessions later, Shadowhunter?”

Alec grins. “You jealous?” And then, because he's worried that his husband is, he adds, “Don’t be, ’cause the cuteness I'm talking about is like the ‘I wanna stuff you into a pillow fort and protect you from the world’ one, not the ‘I’m crushing on you’ one. Y’know, so don't—”

“Not jealous, hun, no.” Magnus mirrors his grin. “It’s just that your mother is recording this all on video and I was wondering if you'd be interested in letting our children see your _unhindered_ , fanboying self?”

“Yes,“ says Alec, resolute and confident. Then, he throws up his hands triumphantly. “I LOVE K-POP, EVERYBODY!“

Popcorn flies all around in celebration.

_Shit, yeah!_

* * *

“Ha,” Alec exclaims, checking the watch strapped to his wrist while he steps inside. “I’m not late. Rejoice, earthlings, for—” He abruptly shuts his mouth.

_Nope. No. I'm done with this._

Alec has already proved, time and again, that he has surrendered to his family in terms of K-pop, and that he doesn't have any self-control whatsoever when it comes to a dancing Magnus Bane.

And, this? This is just plain cruelty. Alec is probably going to end up at a mundane court one of these days, pleasing his case against his hot-ass husband.

_He was dancing, Your Honour—shirtless! The audacity, am I right?_

But the shirtless, sweaty and sparkly warlock isn't just dancing; he's dancing with their children—which is a sight too innocent and too precious that Alec feels the fierce protectiveness that lounges at the foot of the deep, cavernous cave of his heart rear its head to growl and remind him to keep these souls close and safe, _always._

They're gathered in the living room, all furniture pushed back to the extreme corners so that they may have enough space to move. The beats that bounce all over the loft pause and the three of them stop their complicated movements.

Magnus hasn't even noticed him yet; it’s almost as though the man is performing something strenuous and sweat-inducing with the lack of upper layers for purely ordinary reasons, and not to tease Alec to death, maybe. The keyword being _almost._

Rafael and Max crowd around his now-still form, assessing and humming thoughtfully. Rafe opens his mouth to say something undoubtedly dance-related and probably too specific for Alec to comprehend, but then he notices him, standing at the door with his hand on the knob and combined expressions of slight pain, pure awe and just plain blankness flitting across his face.

He just grins with relish. “Hey there, Daddio.”

“Also—” Max wheels toward Alec, arms crossed and hip cocked to the side for maximum haughtiness as his Papa has taught him, “ _earthlings_?”

“Your Uncle Simon,” Alec grumbles, in way of an explanation. He finally recovers from the sight before him and moves to take off his coat and boots. Before he can get to it, however, fingers snap and blue sparks fly, sending everything to its proper place and dressing him in his beloved grey sweatpants and sweater. Alec raises an eyebrow at his _shirtless_ husband (it is an achievement that he can maintain some semblance of calmness, so Alec is proud of himself.)

“You’re dancing,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Ever the observant Nephilim.” Magnus’s face is alight with a teasing smirk, and Alec’s breath gets knocked out of his lungs—bare face, ungelled hair, a firm chest glistening with sweat and abs for days. Alec has seen this sight a thousand times, has committed it to the memory of a particular folder in his brain every single time he comes across it, and Alec knows that Magnus knows that this is his weakness. And here is the ‘almost’—as practical as it is to dance without the confines of irrelevant things like shirts, Magnus knows exactly what he's doing. He _knows_. Alec is most likely drooling right now.

“The point is,” Alec manages to say despite the wonderful distraction, “you’re physically active right now, meaning you're using up a lot of energy, meaning why the _fuck_ did you just go snappity-snap?”

“Oh, I do love it when your little filter just—” Magnus snaps his fingers like the terrible man he is to emphasize how Alec's eloquent-words-only filter has gone on vacation. Seriously, this filter has taken too many vacations, that Alec might just have to fire it; it isn't like it ever did its job anyway.

“C’mon Maxie,” sings Rafe, dragging his little brother away. “Let’s go _snappity-snap_ to the Institute so that we don't have to see our parents doing the nasty.”

“Rafael Lightwood-Bane,” Magnus says, narrowing his cat eyes at him. “Max isn't allowed to make portals after six-thirty, we had a deal.”

The boy curves a challenging eyebrow elegantly upwards. “Would you rather that we stay here? While you two _ravish_ each other senseless?”

Alec’s parental instincts kick in, in spite of the hazy mush his brain has transformed into.

“It’s family night,” he informs him. “Your Papa and I have excellent self-control, and I'm pretty sure we can last the night without, er—” Alec spares Magnus a glance and almost accepts defeat but he plunges on bravely, “without ravishing each other, as you put it.”

The eyebrow bows out and resumes its original place.

“Okay,” Rafe shrugs.

“So,” Alec rubs his hands together and makes his way toward them. “What are we all doing tonight?”

“CHICKEN NOODLE SOUP!”

Alec places a hand over his poor heart, and sputters, “What? Is that some kind of new cook-and-dance-at-the-same-time thing? Because, except for Max, we all are _not_ good cooks and our soups end up tasting like dishwater.”

“Thank you for the compliment, Dad, but we're going to dance _to_ Chicken Noodle Soup.”

“Oh,” says Alec. “ _Oh._ J-Hope?”

He immediately grows very proud of his Spotify-ing abilities, as Magnus turns to him in a flash, eyes wide and mouth agape as though Alec just announced that he was going to wear Gucci and Chanel and all those jazz for the rest of his life.

Rafe walks up to him, clasps his shoulders tightly and nods. “Yes," he says, sounding tearful, “yes, J-Hope.“

“So is this a dance-off, or—?”

Max smiles at him sweetly. “No, don't worry, dear father. We all know about your legendary two left feet.”

Magnus says something under his breath, disguising it as a cough, and both their sons snort with laughter. Alec glares.

“No,” Max says. “We’re just going to learn the choreography for the TikTok challenge.”

Alec does know what that means, yes, despite popular opinion. “Ah,” he says.

Magnus claps his hands, and the song begins again in all its bass-laden, bright-coloured and hunger-inducing glory.

“Big bro and I have already got the hang of it, so Papa only has to teach you.”

“ _Ah_.”

“C’mon, quit pouting,” Rafe tells him, demonstrating the dance with a certain confidence that Alec doesn't hope to have. “It’s only twenty-five seconds or so.”

Alec is fucked.

“Now, Alexander,” Magnus begins, positioning himself behind him and settling his chin over Alec's shoulder. Oh _, by the Angel,_ Alec can feel the sweaty heat through his clothes. “You’re going to have to move your arms like—” Pale, Runed hands are enclosed within brown, ringed ones and Alec’s arms are bent and twisted to his husband’s liking, as they dance close.

Alec is very, _very_ fucked. But, he has never been one to let his warlock win so easily.

So, he gently pulls away for a moment and at Magnus’s questioning gaze, he puts up a finger to ask him to wait. His ratty sweater comes off in one fluid motion and is thrown over the back of the couch. (The Chairman promptly comes and drags it away to make a sad ball of yarn out of it, but Alec manages to keep his composure.)

“It’s hot,” he offers innocently to all the raised eyebrows he receives.

“ _Chicken noodle soup, with a soda on the side._ ”

And when Magnus puts his hands on him again, smirking to show that he accepts the challenge, Alec sees his sons, out of the corner of his eye, slapping their foreheads in perfect unison.

_Shit?_

* * *

“New Zealand is beautiful,” breathes Rafael wondrously, his voice coming out in little wisps of cool air. The boy rubs his mittened hands together, shivering imperceptibly and scooching toward his younger brother who has always been incredibly warm-blooded. The fire before the two of them crackles merrily, aided along by two warlocks’ magic to keep it from dying through all the snow.

White-topped mountains raise from the ground well away from them, providing a lovely silhouette and adding to the prettiness of the fiery sun dipping down behind it. The picture it makes in the photographs they have taken with the camera Clary sent them off with is absolutely stunning. And Max and Rafe are sure that their parents are enjoying this vacation as well as they are, if the way they come out of their cabin—which is a few ways down the slope, complete with a smoke-belching chimney and bunk-beds for the kids, and generally smelling of pine—, holding hands and giggling like teenagers who have just experienced their first broom closet experience at school, is anything to go by.

“Marshmallows,” Max calls out to them, because he's a sweet child.

“For the pure ones among us,” Rafe adds, because he's not entirely sure that he can look at the mantle above the fireplace in their temporary abode the same way ever again.

The four of them aren't sure how long they just sit there on the magicked snow, snacking on sweets that the kids probably wouldn't have been able to eat this late if they were at home. The family is crowded together in one tight huddle, seeking each other's body warmth like moths to a flame.

Magnus turns to his husband, all the love and adoration of the multiverse shining plainly on his face, as he brings a hand to his mouth and places on top of it, a devastatingly simple kiss, while he smiles so wholly with his beautiful eyes and his beautiful soul. Alec melts; rightly so. The stars begin to reveal themselves in the turquoise sky tinged with a dusky orange at the horizon—the jagged lines of the mountain crack into two.

Max and Rafe are on either side of them, holding onto their parents, and living and loving and _laughing_ so open-heartedly that the adults speak without having to make a sound in the night air that is filled to the very edges of the atmosphere with this warmth. _Thank you. Thank you for all of this._

The fire’s wavering light that makes them all seem to glow from the inside has Alec just—at peace, _so_ at peace. He doesn't have to think. He doesn't have to _do._ He just feels. And what he feels is ‘ _home_ ’.

Their legs lay around entangled, their hands flail, and they laugh, as they continue to relay stories and just about anything and everything to each other.

 _Home, home, home,_ Alec chants subconsciously, a weird mix of sadness and happiness, of wistfulness and content drenching his being. _Well, life has always been a conundrum._

Sometime when he is contemplating getting out another packet of marshmallows, Rafe stretches his legs and lets out a breath of something that is between a sigh and a yawn. Before he or Magnus can say, “Bedtime,” though, he quickly reminds them of the time difference and of how their vacations don't include those rules. Max nods along importantly.

“Well,” Rafe says in a drawl, “I feel like singing. Dad, any requests?” As amazing as his elder son can rap, his singing is truly something rare and precious, something painfully beautiful. Alec plans to keep this moment with him forever so he's determined to make it worthwhile of his son's efforts. He notices how Max’s hand glides up and down his brother's back in a soothing motion that Rafe has once quietly confessed to loving, and how it comforts him when he doesn't show that he needs comforting.

Alec blinks slowly, deliberating in his mind what the right song would be and which one Rafael would be comfortable with, when his hand is squeezed as a gentle reminder and he smiles. His husband _does_ know him better than anyone else. He sighs deeply, the answer surfacing to his mind once it calms, like a crystal clear reflection over still water, like how a Rune would make its meaning known to a Nephilim _naturally._

“Er,” Alec says, hesitating, “Love Is Not Over?”

It's one of the songs that Alec never expected himself to love, or to even get used to. And it makes no sense, why a song known for its sad, ballad nature feels at home in this simply blissful moment.

Rafael smiles wryly with no actual bitterness, like he quite understands what his father feels right now, and _why_. Seconds pass as the breeze whistles over the top of their heads, and then he begins to sing, head bent low and voice shaking ever so slightly. As one, the other three Lightwood-Banes scoot closer to him.

He steadily grows louder and more sure of himself, and by the second verse he nudges them all to sing too. Alec has listened to the song many a time, has been around the Korean language for a long while now, and also has his Speak in Tongues Rune almost always activated, so he feels confident enough to join his loved ones. They hitch for a millisecond (Max actually gasps), pleasantly surprised at Alec's soft, quiet baritone adding to their own, but then they all continue from there together.

 _Singing as a family is one of the greatest blessings of life_ , Alec thinks, his heart fit to burst and yet so light that it could just as well be floating around within his ribcages right now.

The sorrow bleeds, and Rafael takes his standard role as rapper again, his eyes closing in satisfaction as he leans against Magnus's chest and lets the words wash over from his lips, deep and whole.

When they finish, Max always the best among them to sing the high pitches, they breathe together too.

It feels so fresh, painfully intimate and _raw_ , and Alec knows that this shall be one of the greatest moments of his life.

“Hey look,” Max says, pointing to the mountain. “The sun is almost gone.”

Rafael jumps up to his feet quickly. “Shit, Maxie, we were going to shoot the challenge!”

Ah, yes. The very reason they came to New Zealand in the first place.

“Oh, yeah...”

“Fear not,” Magnus says, getting up and dusting the snow off his pants. “We still have time.” He twirls his fingers and in the midst of the blue dancing there, their camera and its tripod plop down to his hand.

Rafe and Max quickly set up the device on the snow, mindful of the angle and the light and the shadow of the mountain behind them. Balls of blue (Magnus's) and deep violet (Max's) light are made to levitate here and there to add to the effect, along with a witchlight (Alec's) that is found in a pocket.

Within midnight that day, after several retakes and tries which involved rolling around in the snow, laughing like maniacs, and a brief hot chocolate break, they finally get it—a video of the four of them dancing to Chicken Noodle Soup, with gleeful grins and giggles, and apparently satisfying enough to the two teenagers.

And when they go to sleep, fire burnt out both literally and figuratively (who knew dancing could make him so tired?), Alec cannot help sighing like a love-struck fool into his husband's shoulder as he tangles their legs together under the sheets for better warmth.

 _K-pop truly isn't that bad,_ he thinks. And no impending sense of doom sits upon his chest at that thought at all. Well, then, it seems that Alec's overthinking brain can rest for tonight.

But, no, the universe will not allow him that, because Alec suddenly remembers that the second marshmallow packet that was opened to add some to the hot chocolate still remains outside in the cold, in the snow.

Alec does not want to get up and go get it. And he does not want his beloved marshmallows to be uneatable in the morning. Right before he goes _fuck it_ , however, Magnus waves a hand and mumbles sleepily, “It’s in the cupboards now. Go to sleep, you impossible man.”

“Shit, I love you so fucking much.”

* * *

**Alec’s Spotify Playlist:**

[songs to listen to when missing home...and okay because they sound good too 😱](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2JNRAD8VmeCaNDr6aZRifn?si=X_wbRSEcRbCiGqmP-0ZIpg).

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a beta, so all grammatical mistakes are my own. Sorry. I use a lot of commas.  
> Also, you guys can bet that the New Zealand part was most definitely inspired by that Bon Voyage season. Hehehe.
> 
> To anyone wondering which were the non-K-pop songs mentioned at the very beginning, they're Highway to Hell by AC/DC and then, Careless Whisper by George Michael.  
> Sorry not sorry, they're both _awesome_ songs. Like can you imagine the son of a Prince of Hell jamming to Highway to Hell??? 😂😂
> 
> All you wonderful souls, I'm so sorry if the K-pop group that you are a fan of isn't mentioned here; I'm an ARMY, and I love K-pop completely but my knowledge isn't as vast as you'd hope.  
> Hope you all enjoyed, though.


End file.
